


sana que sana

by mobius-loop (igy)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Friendship, M/M, discussion of the past, eventual romantic stuff, these dorks I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igy/pseuds/mobius-loop
Summary: "Can I try on your hat?”
  Aw hell, Jesse thought to himself. This kid was going to kill him.Lucio and McCree get to know each other and realize they have a lot in common.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a Lucio character study, I don’t know how it ended up mostly McCree nonsense. (CAN’T STOP WON’T STOP—)

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Jesse McCree lowered his gun, reloading it with a practiced hand. The targets at the far end of the shooting range looked considerably worse for wear. Flicking the cylinder shut, he raised the revolver again and took careful aim.

**“JACKPOT!!”**

The sudden shout and the accompanying whoosh of bass notes caught McCree completely off-guard. He spun without thought, leveling his pistol at the source of the sound.

Lucio stood just behind him, eyes wide and trained on the barrel of the gun. Jesse dropped his arm almost immediately, but not soon enough to miss the look of shock on Lucio’s face.

“H-hey, Eastwood. Thought a little distraction might keep you on your toes. Hah.”

Jesse could hear the strained humor in Lucio’s voice. Guilt nagged at him, sharp as a knife in his gut.

“Sorry, partner. You startled me good.” Licking his lips, Jesse holstered his gun and glanced down between them, unable to meet Lucio’s eyes. “You coming out to practice?”

“Nah, I was just passing by and heard the shots. You should really be wearing ear plugs, y’know? Gotta protect your hearing.” Lucio smiled, his cheerful nature reemerging despite the close call moments before. Jesse thought fleetingly that it was like watching the sun come out after a storm.

“Did Angela put you up to saying that? She’s always on me about it too.” McCree reached up to tap the brim of his hat. “Don’t work so well with the get-up though.”

Lucio snickered, gently coasting from side to side on his skates. “Yeah, heaven forbid you mess up the _aesthetic_.”

“The what now?”

Rolling his eyes, Lucio flapped his hands in defeat. Jesse wanted to let it drop, to laugh along and forget that he just pointed a gun at one of his teammates, but the trace of guilt that lingered in the back of his mind wouldn’t stop whispering to him.

“Hey, I’m... sorry I reacted bad just now.”

“Forget it man, no worries. I should be used to it by now.” Lucio laughed, but there was less warmth than usual in the sound. “It’s just that… before Overwatch, there was only one time I ever had a gun pointed at me. It’s still sort of a novel experience, you dig?”

Frowning slightly, Jesse hooked his thumbs into his belt. Sometimes it did escape him that not all of his teammates grew up the same way he did, forged in violence. Trying to come up with a reply let the silence between them stretch uncomfortably long.

Lucio rocked back on the heels of his skates, clearing his throat. “Ah, anyway… you gonna keep shooting, or you want to go get some lunch? My treat, cowboy.”

Snorting at the nickname, McCree glanced back at the targets, riddled with bullet holes. He could do better.

“I’m gonna stick around a bit longer, but thanks. I’ll take you up on the offer some other day.”

“Cool. Catch you later!” Lucio skated off, a smile and a salute tossed Jesse’s way as he glided back to the doors of the base.

McCree turned and drew his pistol again, thumbing back the hammer. The look on Lucio’s face kept flickering into his mind, the fear in the other man’s eyes. Jesse tried not to think about how many times he’d seen that same look on the faces of his enemies.

He raised his gun and took the shot.


	2. Chapter 2

After practicing on the gun range for a few hours, McCree puttered around the Gibraltar base until it got dark. He cracked one of the windows in his room and smoked a cigarillo, his usual nightly ritual—it was a tough habit to kick, despite Angela’s disapproval and Jack’s harsher threats. Replaying the events of the day in his mind, Jesse tried to settle in for the night, but even after lying in bed for several hours sleep was elusive. Some nights, he just resigned himself to restlessness.

Sick of staring at the dark ceiling, Jesse kicked off his bedsheets and pulled on a wrinkled t-shirt. He ambled out out of his room with a vague plan of heading to the kitchen. It felt like some time after midnight. Jesse tried to avoid clocks when he couldn’t sleep—knowing the time only made it worse.

A dim glow illuminated the hallway leading up to the kitchen and dining area. McCree heard soft voices, laughter. Rounding the corner, he found Hana perched on the table in her bunny-print pajamas, feet propped up in a chair. Lucio was lounging against the counter opposite her.

“Hey! Mr. Cowboy!! Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Hana giggled, miming double pistols at Jesse with a wink.

Jesse grinned, crossing his arms and leaning in the doorway. “Don’t pick up everybody else’s bad habits. My name’s Jesse.”

“Nah, don’t let him fool you. His name’s Eastwood. Or Billy the Kid! That’s a good one, right?” Lucio snickered. He picked up a mug from the counter, taking a long drink. McCree noticed he was in his pajamas too, a loose tank top and silky looking sweatpants.

“Wrong again. And speakin’ of bedtimes, ain’t it way past y’all’s?”

Hana jumped down from the table in one fluid motion. “We were having a competition. Mister Talks-A-Big-Game said he could beat me.” Hana threw a scathing look over her shoulder. Lucio shrugged and waved it off.

“Hey! I only lost by two points. That’s a tie in my book.”

“Suuure. Good night, loser!” Sticking out her tongue for a moment, Hana bounced out of the kitchen, pausing to high-five Jesse in the doorway. He returned it with an approving nod and moved aside to let her pass.The sounds of her echoing footfalls slowly faded in the stillness of the night.

“Sorry if I interrupted y’all. Couldn’t sleep.” McCree stretched his arms over his head, wincing at the crackle of his spine. He shifted his feet. “Uh. It’s probably none of my business, but are y’all…”

“Huh?” Lucio’s brow wrinkled for a moment before realization broke across his face. Even in the dim light of the kitchen, Jesse could see the way Lucio blushed in response. “Oh, like— are we  _ together? _ Nah, Hana’s just my friend. Honestly, staying up and playing games and stuff, it reminds me a little of my friends back in Rio.” Lucio signed gently. “I mean, a lot of that was staying up DJ’ing, playing parties. This is pretty tame in comparison. But it’s still fun.”

“Hm.” Finally moving from his spot by the door, McCree went to the refrigerator, yanking it open and rummaging around inside. He grabbed a bottle of some kind of grape cola (Lena’s probably, he would pay her back in junk food) and pulled out a chair to sit at the kitchen table. Lucio pushed off from the counter and took a spot across from him. It had taken Jesse a while to get used to seeing Lucio minus his skates— he wore them so often, it was a little jarring to see him without. Regardless, Lucio moved gracefully, more like a dancer than a soldier. That was closer to the truth anyway, Jesse thought to himself.

“Those kinda parties probably would’ve blown my head clear off as a young’un.” Jesse smiled crookedly, gazing off into the dark night outside the kitchen windows. He popped the cap off of the bottle with his metal thumb. It fizzed as he took a sip, and he grimaced slightly at the sugar content. “I got into enough trouble as it was.”

“That makes two of us.” Lucio drummed his fingers against the tabletop, picking out a slow tempo. “Of course, they probably had different tunes when you were a kid.”

McCree snorted. “I’ll have you know I like both kinds of music, thank ya’ kindly.” At the raised eyebrow from Lucio, Jesse offered his best shit-eating grin. “Country  _ and _ Western.”

Lucio groaned and rocked back so far in his chair that he almost tipped it over. “Please tell me you listen to something more than that. Actually, maybe don’t tell me. Ignorance is bliss.”

The pair of them laughed amiably together, pushing back the quiet of the night.

“I do like your music, though. Your album? It’s good.” Jesse looked up to find Lucio watching him, a genuine smile lighting up his soft features. “I’m sure you hear that from a lotta folks.”

“I appreciate you saying it, though. That means a lot. I still can’t get over it, sometimes. If someone had told my punk-ass when I was seventeen that I’d have a #1 album someday… I never would’ve believed it.” Lucio shook his head, pushing his dreadlocks back over one shoulder.

“You started when you were seventeen?”

“Yeah. One of my buddies had some sound equipment I messed around with… then one day, I found some beat-up old turntables for sale at a pawn shop. I saved up for weeks to get them. Probably paid way too much, they were kinda junk, but it was a start. The rest is ancient history.” Lucio stared off to one side, caught up in his memories.

Jesse propped his elbows on the table, curious despite himself. The sound of Lucio’s voice was so calm, peaceful. Jesse inwardly laughed at the thought of asking him to read a bedtime story.

“When’d you pick up the skates?”

“Ah, that was a lot later. After Vishkar moved in.” A shadow crossed Lucio’s face, and Jesse regretted bringing it up. Casting about for some way to change the subject, he thought back to what Lucio had said before.

“At seventeen... I was pretty busy sticking my nose where it didn’t belong.” Jesse glanced up to see Lucio’s head tilted, questioning. It wasn’t in Jesse’s nature to talk much about the past, especially the parts he’d rather forget, but it would be rude to say something like that and not explain a little.

“Before I got in with Overwatch, I was in a gang. Real bad folks. You didn’t know that?” McCree laughed at the Lucio’s expression, his eyebrows arched in surprise. “I thought most folks around here had heard the rumours, at least.”

“Was it a cowboy gang? Did you steal horses?! Please, tell me you stole horses.” Lucio grinned expectantly.

“Nope. Weapons, mostly. Sorry to disappoint.” Jesse forced himself to smile back. The Deadlock gang had done some truly nasty things, but in the light of Lucio’s enthusiasm, it was easier to pretend they were cartoony villains, mustaches and all.

“... I did have a pretty sweet bike though.”

“A hoverbike? Hmph. I guess a cowboy’s gotta ride something.”

“Yeah, that was my junk shop find. Then I found the Deadlocks… or they found me. I could shoot pretty good. And the rest was history.” Jesse finger-pistoled at Lucio, unthinking, and then flinched when he remembered that the real thing had happened earlier that day.

Lucio either didn’t notice or didn’t mind, leaning back in his chair and stretching sleepily.

“Sometimes I kind of… miss being a kid. Is that weird? I mean like… I know it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but it just feels like it went by so fast. I still remember how great it was, bopping around Rio, playing hockey and stuff. Not having to worry about things.”

“It’s not weird.” Jesse looked away. He’d spent enough time mourning his wasted childhood to know it was a dark and pointless path. Taking a big swig of his stolen cola, Jesse wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I feel that way too, some nights. But then, we’d be missing out on all this fun. Like Reinhart’s cooking.”

McCree delivered the line so seriously that it took Lucio half a second to catch it. His sudden burst of laughter echoed off the ceiling.

“You’re right, you’re right. That makes me feel a lot better about my life choices up to this point,  _ obrigadão.” _

“Uh, bless you?”

This time, Lucio choked on his giggles. “I said ‘thank you,’ jerk. Or  _ ain’t they never teach you none of them there speakin’ words, down south? _ ” Lucio’s attempt at a southern accent was abysmal, at best. Jesse tried his hardest to look offended, but it was mostly ruined by the dumb grin on his face.

“I’m upset on behalf of every Western you’ve ever watched. Where did you even hear somethin’ like that?”

“I guess it just comes naturally, when you spend enough time hanging around Jesse McCree.” Lucio said his name like it belonged in one of those old movies, where everything was larger than life. Jesse enjoyed the way it rolled off his tongue.

“Alright partner, easy there.” A yawn caught Jesse mid-word, stretching out his drawl to the breaking point. “I figure it’s about time to catch some shut-eye before we start hearing chickens.”

“Wouldn’t they be roosters? Thank god there aren’t any, can you imagine Hana if we had some? Mei too. Hana would probably give them all names.”

“Hah, that'd be a hoot. And yeah, it’s roosters, smart guy. My family had a couple when I was little.” Jesse’s faint memories of them made him feel warm as he stood up and nudged his chair back under the table. “Thanks for keepin’ me company.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, of course.” Lucio stood slowly, stretching like a cat. “It was nice. I like hearing about your mysterious cowboy past.” The look Lucio shot Jesse would have been teasing, if not for the honesty in his voice. It took Jesse by surprise.

He was still thinking it over when he finally got back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a quick note, in this story Lucio isn’t an amputee – totally nothing against that headcanon, I love it, it’s just that Lucio is one of the few characters that could conceivably fit his legs inside that gear (looking at you, Hanzo) so I like to think it’s just a big chunk of enhancement armor.
> 
> Also, most of this story is T-rated. There will be an epilogue that involves a higher rating, but it’s totally not necessary reading to enjoy the story. (Winks @ y'all sinners)


	3. Chapter 3

The next day passed uneventfully, since no one was currently out on a mission. Downtime made Jesse twitchy. He played cards with Reinhart and Ana until he couldn’t take losing anymore, then he went for a walk, wandering around the base aimlessly. The light was already fading outside when he made his way back to the kitchen.

A few hours later, Jesse found himself outside Lucio’s room. He hesitated before he knocked, the knuckles of his metal hand resting against the solid door. Jesse could hear faint music coming from inside.

He knocked twice and stepped back. The door opened moments later, Lucio’s smile amping up to maximum when he caught sight of Jesse.

“Howdy. Brought you these.”

Jesse offered up the large plate he had balanced in his other hand. It was covered in small pastries, toasty warm and covered in honey.

“What?! Dude. Those smell  _ awesome. _ Thanks!” Beaming, Lucio reached out to grab the plate. “Um, do you want to come in and have some? I was just messing around with some beats. Where’d you get these?”

Jesse clicked his tongue as he stepped through the doorway. He’d been planning on dropping them off and leaving, but he was also a little curious to see the inside of Lucio’s room. It was small, like most of the living areas on the base, one wall dominated by a big computer desk, crowded with a turntable and a few computer screens. Lucio’s skates were propped nearby. There were a few hockey and soccer posters on the walls, as well as a framed copy of Lucio’s album cover. McCree took it all in with a glance, turning back to Lucio just in time to see him delicately pick up one of the sweets.

“Well, I still felt kinda bad about yesterday, on the range—“ Jesse was interrupted by a loud “Mm!!” as Lucio pushed the entire pastry into his mouth.

“Oh my god, Eastwood, did you  _ make _ these?” The look of utter shock Lucio gave him made Jesse laugh. Lucio sat on his bed, pulling over a pillow to rest the plate on. He gestured at the other end of the bed, and Jesse stepped over a small pile of overwhelmingly green laundry to sit down.

“Uh, yeah. They’re  _ sopapillas,  _ my folks used to make ‘em. Just some flour and water. It ain’t hard, but it takes a minute to knead the dough when you only have one hand good for it.” McCree picked up one of the sweets and took a bite, privately pleased with how well they had turned out. He hummed and licked the honey off his fingers.

Lucio hadn’t stopped staring at him with wide eyes. It was almost enough to make Jesse uncomfortable, if it weren’t for the huge grin plastered across Lucio’s face.

“Ask me next time, I’ll totally help. These are the bomb. They remind me of something I had in Buenos Aires,  _ tortafritas? Mm, delicioso. _ ”

“ _ Gracias.”  _ Jesse tipped his hat up, chuckling. “I know that ain’t right, but I don’t know any Portuguese.”

“Do you know Spanish, though?” Lucio chewed thoughtfully on a pastry. “I’ve heard you speak a bit.”

“Just enough to hurt myself. My old commander used to speak it, and I mostly used it to bug him.”

“Your old commander?” The way Lucio asked it, his voice a little softer, shook something loose in Jesse. It was comforting, in its own way, knowing that Lucio understood. Their backgrounds might have been very different, but they both had their ghosts.

“Yeah. In Blackwatch.” The taste of honey in Jesse’s mouth suddenly turned bitter. “Reyes.”

The silence that descended between them stretched, grew into something massive. Jesse tried to go on, to relay one of the funny stories— of which he still remembered many, despite everything that happened since— but somehow they all got caught in his teeth.

“I was twenty-three, when I heard that Overwatch was over. Still living in Rio.” Lucio was tapping out a noiseless beat on one knee with his fingertips. McCree watched his hand move as he listened.

“I remember I heard it on the TV and I just couldn’t believe it. I thought, well… it was a sign of the times. When I was little, Overwatch were my heroes, you know? Saving the world.”

“Me too.” Jesse remembered the dog-eared poster he’d taped up in his bedroom when he was thirteen. He’d ripped it down three years later, one tiny part of his teenage rebellion.

“That was the year I started working on my album. It was like, writing songs was my way to deal with things. I kept thinking about everybody out there who was feeling how I felt, what I would want to say to them, you know?  _ The Millenium Anxiety  _ was one of the first tracks I finished. I’d written part of it with my buddy Miguel. He… when Vishkar was really cracking down, and we started trying to do something about it… there were bombings. We got him to the hospital, but he didn’t make it.” Lucio bit his lip. “Miguel was one of the reasons I wanted to do this. He always believed in Overwatch, even when things got bad. He’d yell when the news was on, reporting bad stuff, he’d say we all needed to stick together. To believe in better things.” Lucio trailed off, caught up in his thoughts.

Jesse’s voice felt rusty when he finally found his words again. “I’m sure he’d be glad you’re here. Proud.”

Jerking back to the present, Lucio looked Jesse straight in the eyes. After a moment, he smiled.

“I hope so.” Picking up another pastry, Lucio sighed loudly. “Sorry man, here you are bringing the party, and I’m being a downer.”

“S’okay. I get it. Angie always says it’s good to talk about things. Easier said than done, but it is good advice.” Jesse scratched his beard, thoughtful. It’d been a while since he’d had a deep conversation like this, and here he and Lucio had had two in as many days. Lucio was easy to talk to. Jesse hadn’t realized that he’d been missing that kind of connection until now.

“... Does Dr. Zeigler know you call her Angie?” Suddenly there was a mischievous glint in Lucio’s eyes.

“That’s beside the point. Though, I do seem to recall Lena talkin’ about somebody calling her  _ Mom _ one time…”

Lucio paused mid-bite, sputtering and gesturing vigorously. “That’s taken way out of context!! And she promised not to say anything, geez—”

Jesse grinned. “Don’t worry, it don’t take much to bribe me.” Chuckling as Lucio frowned and proceeded to cram the rest of the pastry into his mouth, Jesse noticed there were crumbs sticking to Lucio’s chin. “Hey, you missed some.” He pointed to his own face to show where.

“Hm? Here?” Lucio blinked and rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, missing completely.

“Nah, it’s— c’mere.” Jesse reached out for Lucio’s wrist, aiming to guide him to the right spot. He jumped when Lucio grabbed his hand instead. Lightning-quick, Lucio turned and licked at Jesse’s fingertips. The sudden flash of wet heat sent a shock all the way up Jesse’s arm. Sputtering in surprise, Jesse could feel his cheeks turning red even as Lucio let go of his hand.

“Pfft, Eastwood, your face!” Lucio cackled, smirking as he wiped his chin off properly. “That was priceless.”

Jesse huffed and jerked his arm back down when he realized he’d left it hanging in the air between them. He tried to come up with any kind of response, but it felt like his brain had screeched to a halt. It was suddenly much warmer in Lucio’s room, too hot for Jesse to think. He opened and closed his mouth a few times uselessly.

“Sorry man. Thanks for the dessert.” The smile on Lucio’s face was still too keen by half, and Jesse struggled to hold his gaze.

“You’re welcome.” Fighting a dry mouth, Jesse cleared his throat awkwardly. A decade ago, a younger Jesse McCree would have made some smooth comment, flirting just to see how far he could get. It’d been years since he’d tried anything like that. Jesse felt out of practice.

“It’s gettin’ late, I guess I should get going.” As he stood, Jesse adjusted his hat and glanced back to where Lucio sat, still watching him with interest.

“Can I try on your hat?”

Aw hell, Jesse thought to himself. This kid was going to kill him.

“Not sure it’s gonna fit over all that hair, but here you go.” He stepped closer, lifting his hat off and dropping it over Lucio’s head. Lucio quickly pulled his dreads out of the loose bunch he’d had them in. He shook them out and adjusted the hat to a jaunty angle, peaking up at Jesse from under the brim.

“I don’t know, you’ve got a pretty big head McCree.”

“Pfft.” Jesse waited to catch his eye, and then winked nice and slow, grinning at the way Lucio flushed and ducked his head. “Alright darlin’, give it up.” Lucio relinquished the hat after some cajoling, and a promise to make more  _ sopapillas  _ soon.

Jesse headed off to bed, replaying their conversation in his thoughts. An image of the shy smile Lucio flashed him at the door kept bubbling to the front of his mind as he fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

A week later, Lena, Jesse and Winston were arriving back at the Gibraltar base after a covert mission in Spain. Things had gone relatively well, minus the short scuffle with Talon in the early hours of the morning. It was standard procedure to visit the infirmary after their debriefing, but Jesse had made it out with nothing but some bruised ribs, and he hated the thought of Angela fussing over nothing. Itching to change out of his wrinkled travel clothes, McCree made to bypass everyone else and head to his room. It was just sheer bad luck that Lucio rounded the corner as Jesse was crouching under the wide glass windows of the infirmary.

“What are you doing?” The tone of Lucio’s voice said that he knew exactly what Jesse was doing, but wanted to hear an admission of guilt anyway.

“Ah, I’m fine. Just a little love tap on the side, I’ll sleep it off.” Jesse put on his smoothest smile, trying not to wince as he stood up straight.

Lucio looked him over, then took a quick step forward, jerking the hem of Jesse’s shirt untucked from his pants and lifting it up. It pulled hard against Jesse’s ribs, and he hissed through gritted teeth. “Well ain’t you being friendly—”

“Jesse.” Lucio silenced him with a sharp stare. McCree knew his side was a mess of bruises, more green than purple. It looked worse than it felt, but only just barely.

“Meet me in my room in ten minutes, okay? No arguing, and I won’t rat you out to Dr. Zeigler.”

Nodding his agreement, Jesse smoothed his shirt down and watched as Lucio took off down the corridor. Ten minutes was enough time to change his three-day old clothes, so Jesse headed to his room. As he dug out a clean shirt, he wondered what Lucio had planned. Jesse caught sight of the half-empty whiskey bottle sitting on his nightstand, and picked it up impulsively, taking a sip straight from the bottle and screwing the lid back on tight. The burn in his chest was better than any bandage, in Jesse’s personal opinion. He kept the bottle in his hand as he left for Lucio’s room.

The door was open when Jesse arrived. He could already hear the music faintly pulsing out into the hallway, the same tune that helped them to heal during fights. The thought of such personal attention focused on him was almost enough to make Jesse turn around, but he took a deep breath and slipped through the doorway.

“Howdy.”

Lucio was standing over his turntables, adjusting one of the numerous dials. He shot Jesse a look over his shoulder that made him stand up straighter, despite the soreness of his ribs.

“Sit down. No, actually, lay down. You’re gonna be here for a while.” Jesse balked at the idea of taking over Lucio’s bed, but turning back now meant Lucio  _ and  _ Angela would both be pissed at him. Sitting gently, mindful of his side, Jesse eased off his boots before stretching out on the bed.

Lucio finally turned to face him, only to scowl as he saw the bottle Jesse had propped against the headboard.

“Self-medicating, are we? Is that whiskey? Of course it is. You probably drink it straight, don’t you? Gross.” Picking up the bottle, Lucio stuck out his tongue as he inspected the label.

“It ain’t that bad. Puts hair on your chest.” Jesse watched as Lucio’s gaze dipped down to his chest and then shot back up to his face, looking slightly embarrassed at being caught. The gentle pulse of the music from Lucio’s speakers was already starting to take the sting out of Jesse’s bruises. He grinned and propped his arms behind his head.

“You’re not really selling it here, Eastwood.” Still frowning, Lucio unscrewed the lid of the bottle. Jesse watched with mounting surprise as Lucio took a shot, flinching slightly at the taste, but nowhere near the reaction Jesse expected.

“Ugh. Not the best, but it’s okay.” Lucio handed Jesse the bottle, smirking a little at the shock that was no doubt still written across his face. “I’m a DJ, remember? You learn to drink a little.”

“A little, huh?” Jesse took another sip, enjoying the way the whiskey warmed him on the way down. The tingle was similar to Lucio’s healing music, now that he considered it. Enjoying them both, Jesse stretched out, tilting his hat down over his face and closing his eyes.

A dip in the bed by Jesse’s feet alerted him to Lucio sitting down. Cracking one eye open, Jesse watched as Lucio bobbed his head gently to the rhythm of the music. His dreads were loose, curled gracefully over his shoulders. The light through the window caught the curve of his cheek and Jesse let his eyes wander. He swallowed hard as he felt the alcohol buzzing in his system.

“When did you get that tattoo?”

Lucio blinked and turned, lifting his arm to look down at the black lines on his shoulder.

“It was a birthday thing, just kind of on a whim. I thought it looked cool.” The smile Lucio flashed at Jesse was familiar now, the honest warmth in his eyes.

“Let me see it.” Jesse reached for him, and Lucio shifted to slide down the bed, sitting carefully beside Jesse’s bruised ribs. Lucio offered his arm for inspection, and Jesse slowly ran his fingers over the ink, humming to himself.

“It reminds me of a thing my grandma used to say, when I was little.” Jesse chuckled. “It’s a rhyme, you know?  _ ‘Sana que sana, colita de rana…’” _

Lucio burst into laughter at Jesse’s rendition. “ _ The healing frog’s tail? _ I swear, if you start calling me that, I am  _ not  _ healing your ass the next time we get in a tight spot.”

Jesse laughed hard enough to feel a twinge in his side, but he couldn’t stop, even as Lucio shoved at him playfully and reached up to pull his hat off in revenge. Jesse caught Lucio’s arm halfway, pulling him down closer with a slow grin. Lucio held his gaze, his laughter tapering off into a comfortable silence. They stayed like that, Lucio leaning over him, while the music continued to play faintly in the background.

“Hey.” Jesse spoke softly. This close, he noticed how long Lucio’s eyelashes were, especially since Lucio kept glancing down shyly between them.

“You feeling better yet?”

“I’m not sure…" Jesse pursed his lips, pretending to consider for a moment. "Might need somebody to kiss it better.”

The instant blush on Lucio’s face was worth the way he rolled his eyes and groaned. Before he could push Jesse away, Jesse cupped his jaw gently, propping up on one elbow to press a slow kiss to his mouth.

Lucio hesitated for just a moment, before leaning in to kiss him back. Jesse felt his breath catch. The soft pressure of Lucio’s lips against his was warm and sweet. Jesse couldn’t help the noise he made, a contented rumble deep in his chest. Between the healing music washing away his pain, and the shy way that Lucio caught Jesse’s lip between his teeth, barely a hint of a bite before he ran his tongue over his skin—

At that moment, there was nowhere else Jesse would rather be.

When Lucio pulled away minutes later, he looked down at Jesse’s side, questioning.

“Don’t fret, sunshine, it’s feeling better.”

Lucio’s smile was all the answer he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y’all enjoyed the maiden voyage of the S.S. McRibbits. Lucio is 2 precious for this world, honestly. If you're curious about the song Jesse mentions, google the Sana Que Sana rhyme. I have to think Blizzard was making some kind of joke with Lucio's frog theme. Anyway, thank you so much for reading!! (I might continue with a higher rated epilogue, we'll see what happens haha)


End file.
